In response to a prompt in the Death_by_Quill collection on A03.
Prompt: Round One Only
Theme: Obsession.
My submission for "The Slytherin Cabals- Death by Quill."
Hermione is crazy. That is all. Thank you to my Beta! SaintDionysus for your amazing support throughout this comp! I know how much you loved this, so it is gifted to you X
My eyelids flutter open, and I take a second to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. I can't see him, but the sound of his steady breath comforts me.
I roll over, extending my arm to find him and my hand makes contact with his bare chest. I can feel the rise and fall of it, and the rhythm of his heartbeat thuds softly against me… he's so peaceful like this.
He's so beautiful…
I slipped him a sleeping draught last night, so I could stay. Usually, he makes me leave…
I allow my clammy hand to explore his naked body; moving my hand from his chest down to his chiseled abs. Even in a deep slumber, he is a statuesque body of perfection. My fingertips trace the outline of his physique, and they tingle at the feel of his skin. I exhale a long steady breath; a method I use often to help control my urges...
My mouth waters, and I swallow anxiously.
My tongue darts out of my mouth and lingers as my lips roll into it subtly; I can still taste him. I'd like to say his taste is distinct, but in all honesty, he has thirty-one flavours; I can eat him everyday for a month, and no two flavours are alike…
I don't know what it is about him that makes me want him so badly?
At first, Blaise Zabini was a wildcard. Just a game.
I had an insatiable hunger to break the rules and was tired of trying to live up to everyone's expectations. He was the obvious choice—"the enemy," intellectually challenging, and handsome. It was a great surprise when he accepted my offer willingly. I didn't really see it coming…
He knocked me off my pedestal with a seduction so overwhelming, it unhinged me quicker than I'd like to admit; bewitching my mind, body, and soul…
If I were to compare the beginning of this, "arrangement" to a sport, it would most definitely be the muggle sport, "Rugby Union." Two teams against each other fighting for the win; full body contact and a body of muscles — baring little clothing and absolutely no protection from the body slamming of violent tackles.
When it comes to the sport — generally speaking; only one team finishes with a happy ending. We are lucky in this sense. The ending is always happy, even if it's against his will.
I take, and he gives. And then I give back twice as much…
The fondest memory I have of us would have to be that time in his bedroom.
After weeks of pent-up frustration, all it took was a disagreement with our potions assignment. Like a sly fox tempting her prey, I dropped my feather quill, taunting him with my arse in the air, to which he thought was grounds to bend me over his study desk.
"Deceiving little witch," he said to me whilst he pounded me from behind.
I turned my head to peak over my shoulder and caught his hungry eyes.
In between his thrusts and grunts, and my heavy breaths, and stifled moans, I breathlessly I blurted out, "I can - oh! - be quite the cun - ah! - ning and urgh! - determined little temptress…"
I admired how his lust filled eyes had raked my body as he was coming undone and I followed suit. It gave me a satisfying chill seeing him at my mercy... He held onto me once he was finished; needing my support to gather himself. He rested his chin on my shoulder and said in an almost whisper, "you know, your inferior birth disgusts me and I hate you, but I've never had a girl like you..."
He was positively glowing in our aftersex and it made my heart skip a beat...
"A girl like me?" I questioned naively whilst he was still in me, though he was becoming flaccid; I was expecting him to exit any minute.
"A mudblood," he spat.
I wondered when he was going to state the obvious...
"Oh," I said, before shaking off my vulnerability, and retorted back an insult so sharp my words had the potential to cut him.
"Don't forget it was my Gryffindor 'mudblood' pussy that had you practically on your mother fucking knees a minute ago," I said as I looked at him from over my shoulder.
He backed away as I continued.
"And for an arrogant prick like yourself, remember this... At least I'm not inbred. I am considered a rare delicacy amongst pureblood Slytherins such as yourself, so really you should be grateful I even let you into my chamber of secrets…"
I remember his shock as I said this. He stood there, mind blown at my outburst, and it took him some time to recover from the burn.
Before he retaliated, I continued, "I hate you, too, you know. You're an arrogant fucking arse. We'll always be enemies, Blaise…" I stepped toward him and brushed my fingers against his cheek affectionately, "I've heard you quite enjoy games; there's no harm in us having a little bit of fun now is there?"
...oh Merlin do we have fun!
We play hard.
I hear a change in his breathing, and his body flinches; signalling he's waking. I look over at his study desk; the same one he bends me over regularly… it's only 3am. The sleeping draught is wearing off him quickly. I noted that next time I will have to make some adjustments. I didn't consider the consequences of him waking early and possibly being angry at me. I just crave being in his presence so much... He tripped me you see. And I fell into a vat of seduction.
One could say I'm lost in a struggle. I admit things may be a little distorted but I never lose perspective. There is a vague line between reality and fantasy; and he blurs every inch of it but I'm always in control...
I wouldn't call him my lover, no. Forgive me.
I have sinned in the most wicked of ways.
I often get on my knees before him, like a sinner before a saint at confessional. Confessing my deepest darkest secrets and desires to someone unknown and 'holy' to purge myself of my wrongs. The consequence is that the priest is the very Devil himself; the temptation to sin overwhelms me, and I choke down his length without consequence, complying; flirting and worshiping the Devil within him.
Is it ridiculous that I'm not even afraid? Could you imagine being choked to death by his cock? I can't think of a better way to go. I don't even mind the bruises on my knees from the friction. I've found God and the Devil in the form of this wizard. Chiseled in a mass of slick perfection and bad to the bone. And Merlin! Does he know how to use that tongue!
I'd let Blaise Zabini plunge into me 24/7 if I had the choice…
I don't think we have the mental capacity to love each other. Call it fucked up, but we love to hate each other. It's what we do. It is what it is — fucking the enemy for thrills and getting more than you bargained for, but as long as he is balls deep in me, I am satisfied.
This "thing" we've got going on is the perfect definition of toxic. We're addicts. We get off on it. I don't believe in the saying "too much of a 'good' thing," is bad... I'm a hopeless romantic with a filthy mind, but I'm attracted to him in ways only my body can understand.
My attraction for Blaise is an insatiable hunger for the curse of this obsession. I admit that I keep close tabs on him...
My pussy is home to him. It gives me great satisfaction to know I can give him what he wants, when he wants it, and when he needs me. They say it's a dangerous thing to need someone... I beg to differ… I can have him when I want, too... The art of pleasing is the art of deceiving and I have no qualms with using other methods to assist me. He'd be so proud some of his Slytherin traits have rubbed off on me...
I can't ignore my impulses. It's an uncontrollable lust that pulls me toward him, you see...
I get butterflies... Butterflies, and orgasms, and heart palpitations...
I am determined to keep him. I'll go to any lengths…
They say obsession is unhealthy, that obsession can paralyze us and possess our minds. My rationality is often clouded. The truth is he occupies my mind constantly; so much so, that the full extent of it is rather excessive, but I don't see the problem with that. I know he likes it.
They say only fools rush in. Well Blaise Zabini I am a fool for you…
I watch his shadowy figure in the dark as he wakes… His body shuffles, and his foot kicks out of the sheets. He mutters something, and light floods the room instantly. It doesn't take long for my eye's to adjust to the light.
He flinches away from me, but I know it's only because he cannot resist me. He wants to play; so I'll chase...
"Granger. What the fuck are you still doing here and why did you drug me again?"
His eyes are dark and stormy, but I know it's because he seeks the lighthouse inside me to guide him through the chaos.
I reach out to touch him but he pushes my hand away… "Good morning to you too! Sorry that I wanted a bit more quality time with you."
The good old saying is 'quality over quantity' but I'm very picky. He's looks angry but I know just how to make it up to him.
"How the fuck is it quality time if you have to drug me, Granger?"
I smile at him projecting my lust filled eyes, and I penetrate his mind softly; eager to read his thoughts at this very moment.
"I like to watch you sleep," I say, as I flutter my eyelashes at him. "Tell me you like it?"
His mind is blank, and I slowly prod at his barrier; trying to bring down his walls… He is stronger today, and he snaps at me but I take it. It's okay, he always changes his mind - eventually, even if it's by force.
"You know I don't. I don't know how many times I have to tell you I am done. This 'arrangement' doesn't work for me anymore."
I persist . "Hmmm. You didn't seem to think that when I was—"
He interrupts me. "—Granger," and climbs out of bed to avoid me.
I'm impatient, and a little bit offended at his imposition, so I make my demands known.
"Zabini. You are mine. You cannot dismiss me."
I can see his anger building, but it doesn't concern me.
"We're not fucking dating Granger!"
No, we aren't, but he knows as well as I do that he needs me…
I climb out of bed and stalk toward him. I don't want any more barriers between us. I reach out to him again, "Admit it. You want me."
He swipes my hand away, exasperated.
"I don't want you," he says abruptly.
I press the matter further because I won't give up. But my voice betrays me with a hint of desperation, "Lie to me…"
"Don't make me lie to you, I won't" he spat.
I attempt to change the subject… I'd rather not use a glamour to seduce him but so be it if he continues with this rejection. "Do you know what I think is really sexy?"
"Granger, stop." He puts his hand up to stop me touching him and I get offended. I don't like being denied of what is rightfully mine.
I boldly inch forward to close the growing space between us. Blaise has nowhere else to go. He backs up to the wall behind him and I feel confident in this position. There's a determined intensity about my disposition but it's only because I want him so. He won't win; not ever, if I can help it…
I lean forward and respond in a modulated tone. "When you play this," — my lips graze his ear, "' I don't want to see you anymore, game,'" — I bite his earlobe , "and you tell me I'm bonkers. Think about how many times you've actually won?"
I place my hands near his hips on either side of the wall behind him pinning him with my body. " You always cave. Give in to me," I demand in my most sultry, alluring voice.
He flinches and turns his head away from me. I take that as an invitation to suck on his neck…
I lick my lips and drive my body forward, increasing the pressure of my body against him to let him feel my want… He tries to push me away but I have the upper hand on him. I invented a strength potion for this very purpose and I'm pleased to say it has been most successful. My lips meet the skin of his neck and I suck and bite his skin with fervour. He tenses, but it only increases my hunger for him.
He knows there is no denying me.
I push his boundaries beyond his imagination and he relishes the humiliation; being at my mercy.
I make him weak…
Once again he falls victim to me. My teeth tug the skin of his neck and he succumbs to me.
" Fuck, Granger..." he exclaimed.
I love it when he swears at me.
I love it when he cannot resist me.
It's not long before I feel his hands on my waist, squeezing me and pulling me closer than our bodies can manage. Finally…
I like it, so I let him.
I slide my hand down his front and cup his balls. He grunts in frustration as I massage them to tease; aiming to please.
I love having this power over him. He knows and I know, It feeds my obsession.
It isn't long before I feel his hands glide from my waist to my arse and he lifts me effortlessly; I wrap my legs around his waist, naturally, and it feels so good that he wants me.
I am already begging for him.
He throws me onto his bed and buries himself between my legs… I peek through the curls that cascade around my face, and my heart leaps with a wild longing in my chest. I can see his face planted firmly between my thighs, his hands slick with nervous sweat; grip my hips, and I know he's about to make my pussy his home.
Having this Slytherin between my legs is so mesmerising; the way his skilled tongue glides between my folds… it's an art.
He nips and sucks my clit with a desperate need to please me and I let him.
A familiar pressure builds in my abdomen and I am screaming Blaise Zabini's name within minutes.
I don't think I can ever come down from the high that is; Blaise Zabini.
He is my vice.
My obsession.
I will continue to corrupt him without hesitation.
My vice-like grip on him will never ease.
This deranged entanglement is fire and ice, it's controlling and submissive, it's symbiotic—it's everything.